How infrequently we recall, those sigh heavy times of grievance rarely are fed on the infinity invested.
How thoroughly November reminds, my friend to oblivion is consigned –
And I wonder at times, what could be remarkable in a world that, a moment looked upon, hence himself my hero hurled.
Who isn’t held by a ‘scaped balloon hurrying upward in the distance? After the first grief, we admire its wondrous hopeless climb.
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